London Night
by Yours Eloise x
Summary: Mondler. At glimpse at one of those times in London, the night they got together, up close.


**Inspired by...**

Elentori's Touch Animation:

(replace £ with .) www£elentori£deviantart£com/art/Touch-Animation-353473472

**and**

iprobablyneurotic's Good to You (Chandler/Monica; FRIENDS):

(replace £ with .) www£youtube£com/watch?v=0Hdfv1ZyE8M

**Hope you like it...**

* * *

"I want to remember this Chandler."

She said afterwards, her eyes closed and her breath hot on his chest – as amber ember singeing blank bare breast.

"You will Mon"

He said; and dared himself silently to place a small kiss on her shining temple, which he did.

"But but Chandler I drank _sooooooo_ much."

She opened her eyes and gazed up straight into his innocently.

"And I so want to remember _thisssss_!"

Then suddenly she lowered her gaze and tone from childlike whine to raspy whisper.

"Being with **you**."

...

He had smirked, but couldn't make a joke. She looked too vulnerable, too sincere, too sexy, for him to joke. So he, Chandler, the guy who always joked, smiled instead and said:

"Then I'll make sure you remember."

And with this great gulp of dared declaration, he kissed her hard upon her lips, with reinvigorated feeling.

They'd done it once already, all tipsy and witty and woo; now, as she went huggy and settled and submerged in drunken pity, he awakened prickling spirit anew.

"Oh Chandler"

Monica sighed, as he left a trail of light pecks upon her chest.

How long had he wanted her to say his name like this? He couldn't remember:

I don't know. I... Perhaps I always have.

If he knew anything other than her visibly in these last monotone moments, it was that he wanted desperately to hear her, hear Monica:

Say my name again, just like that, just once more...

or perhaps forever...

So he stroked her newly flushed cheek and kissed her pouting lips. God only knows he was hooked.

And now is not a time,

He instructed his niggling mind,

for friendship theory.

It was for him and Monica only. Doubts were not permitted, only kisses and more...

Kisses were soon littered on her temple. Monica's thoughts were bamboozled by feeling. She had drunk to forget, to possibly get through a night with Joey for god's sake – what was she thinking? Here now was Chandler...

Chandler!

But...

Wow!

_This_ she did not want to forget, wanted to remember... perhaps forever...

Bare skin pressed together without apprehension. Gone were jokes and put off were anxieties. Right now this meeting was real. And neither soul seemed to wish to ever emerge from it.

"Oh god Mon"

Chandler gasped low – her legs were entwined with his and her hands, at a pace of sexual tickle, traced down himself a winding path of pressure past simple pleasure; elegance wrapped further around masculinity; and tangerine-tipped diamonds ran thin and slowly in kind laps upon growing epitome, causing

"Oh Monica"

to be sighed, again.

He returned with blunt thumb down upon folds, feeling. His eyes blind rested in a head leaning on her leaning head, so he felt his way. Passive and active waves of feeling and feelings were both souls swaying and drowning in. Chandler pressed and searched softly soft curls and skin – he did not need to see, add aqua with eyes to this sea – and twirled and delved into the epitome of her, of, he silently reminded himself, of Monica, god of Monica.

With swollen softness, strength and senses were they again joined completely. Both immersed fully in feeling, almost panting, as hard rhythm overruled bodily refrain.

To touch her, to be in her, Monica... Chandler thought he was dreaming.

To touch him, be filled by him, Chandler... Monica, though her thoughts were wine-tinted, recognised old, formally unappreciated things:

Chandler always makes me comfortable,

makes me happy,

is making my brain spin.

It was, no, it is all him.

She had liked him, fallen into a slight fight, then friendship and forgotten her feelings; now she remembered... or perhaps it was the drink thinking...

Regardless rhythm continued. Roughness kissed silk, as slightness kissed bulk, in each meeting, as pumped from waists pleasure increasing.

Neither had got round to even thinking about turning the lights off. The light, it kept it real. This wasn't a dream. It was really happening.

Chandler looked now, really looked, at Monica, at her flushed face, her black eyelashes flickering, her eyes near closed; at her mouth releasing subtle signs – _her_ sighs – and shaped into an 'o'; and at her lips – they were moreish and moist and vermilion. Here he had briefly slipped, glimpsed at a second slow, gone again now as time re-quickened: his lips attacked her compelling own.

Oh this is all-consuming,

Her head told her.

The fact of present contentness slipped into Monica's mind as unspoken word, stamped subtly and releasing sighs to match the moans grown up from below.

And this is Chandler,

She told her head in return, his tongue once more mimicking in movement a bigger growth and interrupting any internal reply; as replacement:

"Oh Chandler" Out loud.

And inside: Oh My.

Hands burnt electric-pink prints on chests and thighs and faces; a moist and boisterous join spread out fast flushes. Sizzles seeping, this penciled pairing's every part was joyously overheating and, as in a collision of drunk effusion and general-lit sobriety, near silently.

Being new, such a coalition of states and selves, it appeared almost also to impersonate illusion; thus little things aided gently to securing reality, as well as defeating even the alcoholic swimming pool of an obstacle just previously poured upon Monica's mind...

More than once, he tucked loose liquorice locks behind her ears with a kind and lingering hand.

She played and played with the short tuffs upon the nape of his neck, placing soft tickles amougst hazel-streaked strands.

He placed sweet peck on rosy cheek, and sweet peck on alabaster neck, and sweet sweet peck on her bare heart...

Uh... what?

Monica immediately censured and extinguished.

Umm... that's the drink thinking... it must be... m m mustn't it?...

She couldn't think, not straight, not with him doing _that_.

He was thoroughly distracting her. He had thoroughly captured her.

"Oh God... Yes!... Chandler"

He couldn't think, not straight:

She likes me, she must like me enough, to do that, I mean, to cum again, to want to again, to want _me _to make her again...

As he matched his rough palm with her smooth, he matched her fervent cry with his own, ardent and low.

"God!... Monica... Monica"

He filled her. This is really happening. She...

Then his head, like a faulty fax machine, re-informed him:

She's been drinking.

Oh yeah...

He had forgotten.

He felt hot and deflated for the worst moment;

the worst moment.

...and it lasted, unbearably, until he looked her, again, at Monica...

She was smiling up at him, earnest in expression and tentative in touch. She brought up her small hands to stroke, with the back of her fingers, silk streams upon his cheeks. She couldn't stop smiling; and now neither could he, not when the most beautiful woman smiled at him like that.

Monica knew he had gone slow for her, knew he had been gentle and passionate, and knew he had done so to make sure she remembered. She had then looked up at him, him with his azure eyes, and couldn't stop smiling.

God, she loved...

No, uh.

She shook her head mentally.

His eyes, yes, his eyes.

Methodically, mentally she began to nod.

I could sink in them happily.

In fact she really was, as he had looked too at her and smiled at her and accepted her snowdrop hands upon his fawn-free face.

"You made sure." She said softly.

He knew what she meant. He felt... why his chest felt light and his head dizzy. He didn't know what to say and he didn't want to joke, so instead he leant down slowly and placed one more kiss, this time small and soft and directly upon her lips. Barely more than a peck in pressure, but so slow and natural was this fusion that they both near melted.

Though he pulled out and away from lips and colour and core, she didn't feeling empty: that kiss ended, but he held her still and even tighter as they turned together to lie as adjacent forms... and she knew they'd kiss more.


End file.
